That Metallic Tinge
by Netta Sloan
Summary: the grafting phase of Ed's automail surgery.  You may want to read Three Days of Waking first.
1. Strong Blue Eyes

The little boy lay there, able to wriggle the remaining flesh digits he had been left with, but lacking the ability to move much else. For the last week he had been struggling to become totally awake; each new level of awareness bringing with it a new understanding for the word pain. Now he lay here, his body strapped down and humming with more pain than he ever thought possible, and prepared himself for a new definition.

A clank at the door made him instantly loathe himself. Here he was dreading the pain of what was to come when his dear brother would give anything to feel even the smallest of pinpricks. And to top it off, that very same dear brother was feeling guilty about his pain. His thoughts slammed to a halt as the armor face came into his field of vision.

"Brother…." He nodded that he'd heard. "I'm going out to play with Den, now. Granny and Winry say that it's too distracting having me in here. I'll be back when it's time for dinner."

"Okay Al. I'll see you then." The armor nodded and shuffled out. As the clanging footsteps receded from the room he was tempted to call out, beg him not to leave him, but then her face appeared. The blue eyes that bored into his held no fear, no trepidation, no hesitation. He felt his anticipation leak away and then renew. It was about to start. There would be no turning back after this. The blue eyes lingered in his field of vision. He didn't know why, but he was glad. He felt his bravado returning, his determination to fix his mistakes. As he swelled with it, she nodded once, and then a hand touched his face. She gently coaxed his jaw open and slipped a plastic barrier of some type over his teeth. When his chin was released he clamped down and returned her nod. A flash of golden hair was the last he saw.

Hands tightened on his leg. Delicate fingers settled over his collarbone.

The first voice he'd ever heard announced the commencement, "Well, boy, hold on."

The pain hit him like a giant electrified hammer. His body instinctively lashed out attempting to knock away the cause. The restraints held, but dug deeply into his flesh leaving the first of many bruises. Then, as Winry and Granny began to wrap the wires around his nerves the pain tried to consume him. His very sense of self was torn away leaving nothing but images and sensations to flicker through his mind. The groaning growl which escaped from between his clenched teeth turned to a whimpered sob as the metal was heated melting into every crevice along the nerve. Sweat sprouted from every pore as the heat raced along his spine, his already dry bladder found liquid to flush out the tube protruding from his body. The miniature torches stopped but the metal still burned as drool and foam leaked from his lips. Then an icy cold chased the heat away freezing him in place, turning his struggling muscles to lead, leaving him chapped and blasted. Warm tears continued to fall as his body quaked with shivers. His jaw ached from the grinding of his teeth. A last jolt raced along through his body and the whole world stopped.

The cold slowly wore away, letting him regain himself. He remembered that his name is Edward. His eyes began to focus and his sense of hearing returned. Feeling cold water fill his mouth he swallowed convulsively, not feeling it go down. Time seemed to speed back up to its normal pace. He began to make out that the weird humming he'd been hearing was actually a voice. He felt a cool rag wipe his face and the words slowly began to make sense.

"Edward. Edward." He must have moved his lips because the voice let out a little relieved sound before going on. "We've finished the first connection. I thought you needed a little break. Granny is outside smoking. Can you squeeze my fingers?"

At this inane question he became rather irritated. He fought desperately to feel anything but pain and the cool rag on his face. Ah, there it was. Little fingers resting in his. He fumbled a little, trying to squeeze them and felt the voice…Winry….speak again.

"Good Ed. You're doing great. Not too much longer." He felt the rag on his face shift, wiping his nose. He was crying, but he didn't care. He tried to spit out the mouth guard. Her hand went to his mouth, helping him remove the piece. Anger came back to him, anger at his helplessness. He wondered for a split second what this was doing to her and then let it go as her eyes met his. The strength in those blue eyes hadn't faded. "More water?"


	2. Constant Voice

He was incapable of counting how many times the process repeated itself. The first connection was nothing compared to the second, and then the third. Each new wiring of nerves compounded the pain he felt even in resting. The small air currents that at first had felt like a caress against his skin were transformed into fingers of fire burning deeply. Everything was forgotten when the pain consumed him. Meaningless flashes of his life gone wrong lit up his world behind tightly clenched eyes at each new sensation. His flesh felt both sunburned and freezer-burned. Sweat alternately poured out of his skin and then froze in his pores. His jaw lost all feeling as it locked up. He lived and died for that moment when time stopped and he heard the voice. _Winry. _She let him regain himself; stayed strong and sure and constant. Wiping his tears, but for the first time in all of his memory not shedding any of her own. The mouth guard had gotten larger as foam gave way to blood, but he didn't notice.

After an eternity of this pattern she'd appeared again. "We're going to do the last connection, Ed. Then we have to clean up. This will be the worst, but I'll try to make it quick." He'd heard clanking when she spoke and another piece of memory came back to him. _Al. _He gagged on his own blood and wondered if that was how the armor tasted. Did Al's soul smell blood or was that sense left with the body? The clanking faded and retreated, then came back again. The armor face appeared above his and instantly he froze. He did his best to hide the pain and his tears. "Brother, I wheeled in the machines for Granny and Winry. They're almost finished. I'll be back soon." The armor left his sight. He listened to the clanking as it faded away. His tears came faster with every step, but he didn't cry out. A lined face with spectacles appeared. A gloved hand brushed the tears away. "Almost done, Ed." Granny faded away and he felt the hands take hold of him again.

The pain had him again, chewing and swallowing. He was digested, hurled up, and then swallowed again. He bid his time, groaning and straining against it for when time stopped. He almost welcomed the last painful jolt as the world halted. A moments escape and then her. But this time she didn't come. Tears of anguish broke his vision into a watery reflection. A cry of loss slipped past his teeth and out his lips. He had almost formed the conscious thought for what he felt when it hit him again. A yanking on both arm and leg; his leftover stumps were trying to tear themselves from his body. It went on and on. He struggled against his bonds, trying to rip his body in two just to have some relief.

Then as fast as it had begun, it was over. His body slammed back together and he became a vortex, drawing everything in to his center. The shock continued, his chest felt as if it was slowly exploding, ever expanding. Vertebrae popped up and down his spine as it tried to curl in on itself, dragging his lumbering body along with it. The veins in his forehead stood up in sharp relief, the small vessels in his eyes bursting under the pressure. A final wave rolled up both limbs and his chest popped. His vision blossomed into bright light until he couldn't see anymore. The light faded and he was alone with his memories. Adrenaline flooded his system as horror overtook him. He could see the doors, but the truth was no where in sight. He was dragged towards them, the shadow blocking out all the details and the vision began to grow fuzzy at the edges. The reek of blood and metal gagged him, growing stronger as he was drawn further forward. His eyes could make out the familiar words _Netzeth in Prineip _written on his destination. He began sobbing as the words came closer to his face, the doors falling forward and he was lost as they crushed him, without him ever regaining self.


	3. Soft Hands

He floated in a dark world. All coherent thoughts lost. His only company at first was the sound of strained breathing and a drum. He drifted, trying to place where the sound was coming from. Pain came to him next, followed by a feeling of loss. He didn't know what hurt or what he had lost, but the lack of knowledge only magnified the intensity. Light slowly returned to the world, a grey-reddish tinge; a metallic tinge to match the smell and taste. He started to question, yearned to remember who he was, what happened to him, where the pain came from. New sounds joined the strained breathing. Someone was crying. A horrible small whimpering mixed with groans. He hated it, wanted it to stop. He wanted to tell whatever was making that sound that it would be alright again, once the pain was gone.

Shortly after the new sounds started a cold filled his world. It was somewhat comforting as it broke up his attention; taking the focus off of the pain. His thoughts returned and he remembered who he was. The whimpers turned into small sobs as his memory came back and he recalled what he had lost. He became tired of the grey and strove to restore his lost vision. He needed to see. The aches became more pronounced as he swam towards complete consciousness, strove to open his eyes. He had almost given up, turned back when a light broke through. His eyes fluttered open to reveal a world of brown and metal. _Al's hand. _Sound followed sight.

"Brother, its okay. It will be alright." He was being spoken to. His attempt at speech was only a pitiful groan. Panic seized him again when he couldn't move. Something he hadn't been aware of stopped, a small comfort rubbing something sore.

"Al, I think he's awake."

"Brother?!" Excited voices filled the air above him as the metal hand moved away from his eyes. He squinted at the people causing the noise. Relief flooded through him as Winry ran a cloth over his face. She hadn't abandoned him. The people above him were concerned as he let out a few more sobs, of relief this time. He strained against the bonds holding him down. He wanted to touch her, make sure she was real, and he didn't care how much it hurt to do it. His breathing became more ragged, but he found his voice.

"Untie me." It came out broken. He barely recognized himself. Al's eyes flashed wide in alarm, but Winry went straight to his wrist, pulling him free.

"Uh, Winry?"

"Its fine, Al. Could you do his leg?" The armor moved obediently if somewhat hesitantly. He ignored it, not wanting to reveal his weakness. Blue eyes met his as he stared at her. The bonds came free and pain lanced to his extremities. Blood flow had been restored; tingles, pain, and irritation attacked his freedom. He lost out to them; grinding the limbs down into the bed and biting down on a yell that almost defeated him.

"Brother, does it hurt that bad?" He swallowed down his irritation, panting to speak again, to give his brother some reassurance.

"Nothing I can't handle. We'll be on our journey and home again before you know it, Al." Anything else he wanted to say was cut short as the needles intensified. He shot a desperate look at Winry, hoping she could understand. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth but Al cut her off.

"I'm going to go read." The voice sounded weak coming out of the armor; hurt feelings, but relief. He felt a little guilty until she spoke, breaking his thoughts.

"Al understands. Don't worry about it. I'll cheer him up later, I promise." He nodded slightly in response, the little movement sending waves of pain down his sore spine. He gathered his strength for the one thing he needed. Slowly, biding his time, he moved his hand. Grunts escaped him as each inch was a mountain of fire he forced himself to jump in, until finally his hand rested on hers. She smiled as her fingers were squeezed and he felt flooded in sunshine. His breaths came a little slower as the relieved sobs came back. He watched through his tears as she kneeled down beside the bed. Her other hand came up, brushing his bangs back off his face. He closed his eyes, basking in the comfort of her fingers sliding through his hair.

The sobs slowed and he began to drift again, riding on currents of pain and little comforts. He drifted until he felt her fingers wriggle out of his hand. He snapped out of the slight daze, panic seizing him again when he felt her fingers gently drift over his eyes, forcing his lids closed. "I'm here, Ed. I'll always be here, waiting on you. Just rest." He nodded and let his senses slowly drift. He thought he could hear her lightly singing, her hands alternately holding his and wiping his face, but it didn't matter. He floated; thoughts of her keeping him company.

_06/09/07 -Author's note: That's it for this story. Only one more stage of surgery to go before Ed starts adaptation and recovery. Thank you to all of my anon reviewers and readers. _


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